It began with a boy and a dime.

On a quiet Saturday morning in 1928, Los Angeles, a mother handed her nine-year-old son some change

and watched him walk down the street to see a movie.

But he would never come back.

And what followed was a nightmare that spiraled beyond comprehension.

One that pulled in corrupt police officers, a grieving parent, a false reunion staged for the press,

and a string of horrors buried beneath a chicken coop in the California desert. And at the center

of it all was Christine Collins, a woman who simply wanted her son back, and instead found

herself fighting a system determined to silence her. This is the story of

the boy who wasn't Walter. Crime, conspiracy, cults, serial killers, and murder, all things that I love

to consume and I know you do too, you sick, twisted, beautiful, intellectually minded...

Rupert didn't like that. Rupert's in the background right now. Sorry, buddy. He's all right. He's like,

what the hell? Anyway, today is an insane case. And I actually heard about this case years and years and years ago when I watched a movie called The Changelangling with Angelina Jolie.

I highly recommend you watch it. It is heartbreaking. And I'm going to give you the background to this case, which is even more crazy than the movie.

But anyway, without further ado, let's unbuckle our seatbelts, go Mach 5 down the highway, slam on the brakes, and busts through this windshield into this insane case together.

Christine Ida Collins was a single mother raising her son Walter in Los Angeles during the Roaring 20s.

Born in 1888, Christine was independent and a determined woman, which was something of an anomaly in that era.

Because women were often expected to be submissive, if you will.

As she would work as a supervisor at a telephone company specifically, and was known for her business-like, no-nonsense demeter when dealing with men in authority, which is badass bitch

mode.

We love that.

But her personal life had been challenging because her ex-husband, Walter Collins, Sr., was

...